The Killings at Ottery Norton
by Aster cordifolius
Summary: Rose and Scorpius are undercover together, investigating muggle-baiting and a smuggling ring in a small village called Ottery Norton.
1. Chapter 1

"Rose, this is how people are meeting nowadays. No one has time for sitting at a bar and waiting to catch someone's eye," said Isis

"Catch someone's eye my ass, I know practically all of wizarding England. I can't swing a dead kneazle in Diagon Alley without hitting two people I know and three that I'm related to. Do you suggest I start looking for men in other countries? Wait 'til the _Prophet_ grabs hold of that one—"Rosie Weds Owl-Order Groom."

"Leave kneazles out of this, they're really lovely creatures. The problem isn't that youknow too few people, the problem is that when you know so many people, you aren't accessible to meet new ones," said Pomona.

"There is nothing wrong with my aura!"

"Of course not, Pomona wasn't talking about cleansing your aura—that's so last year. What she means to say is that Pamela Davies met Cuthbert Burby through the Matching Hat not six months ago and now they're engaged!" said Gwenog.

Rose groaned. She had heard plenty of stories about how a friend of a friend met her spouse through the Matching Hat. And what the hell kind of name is Cuthbert Burby?

"I socialize plenty, I have a very full social calendar," said Rose.

"Half of the events on your calendar are Weasley family events and the other half are Ministry functions. You aren't going to meet someone by attending Ministry functions as a security officer. Guffy Cresswell and Oakby Ollerton were married two years to the day after The Hat matched them. Rose, if you ever expect to meet a man you aren't related to by blood or marriage, you have to start looking differently," said Isis.

Rose's friends had a point. For all the socializing Rose did, the number of new and unattached men she met annually was statistically comparable to the number she might meet whilst living in a convent. She was even related, distantly, to most of her friends. Maybe this hat business was the answer. She didn't expect to meet her soul mate, but having a few new friends could open up new avenues. At the very least the Hat could give her a reprieve from awkward blind dates disguised as family dinners with chaps some aunt or other had decided, "would be just perfect for Rosie" but that really have been hit by a few too many bludgers.

"Alright, fine, where does one find this blas-blessed Hat?" Rose was envisioning having to try on the Sorting Hat in some elderly woman's cottage that was decorated worse than Madame Puddifoot's at Valentine's Day.

"That's what makes the whole thing perfect, _you _don't have to go anywhere!" Worse! thought Rose, now envisioning an elderly woman cum Puddifoot-esque Valentine carrying an oversized hat box as she hobbled into Rose's office. The whole blessed office would know. By lunch the Ministry rumor mill would have it and the _Prophet_ could do a two-part special on Rose's entire romantic past for the evening edition.

Rose heard the end of Gwenog's reply, "Pamela said that was it, just fill out the form, owl it back, and wait for potential matches to just fall into your lap."

"Wait, so there's no hat?" asked Rose. Isis rolled her eyes at Rose's lack of attention.

"No hat Rose. Did you think you'd be trying on the Sorting Hat again? Get with it. The Matching Hat is online—you know, computers. There's a parchment interface for the truly," Isis made air quotes with her hands here, flinging crumbs, "_traditional"_ philistines that are completely out of touch with the modern era—"

"Hey, I happen to think that getting mail by owl is romantic!"

"It is, but really, when it comes down to it, you've got a nippy pet that's always gone and a pile of bird droppings. Unless you've a house elf as well, why bother?" said Pomona.

"Just because your workplace has embraced the muggle revolution doesn't mean that ours have. I doubt that the Ministry will ever use computers. Besides, there's enough magic in that building to short circuit –something big. Just send me the link and I'll sign up. What's the worst that could happen, right?"

A week later, she received a stack of profiles of wizards that might match up. Immediately she recognized a relative, a former co-worker, and an absolute git. And tragically that didn't describe the same person. Rose _Diminuendo'd_ the profiles and shoved them into her purse. 'Well, those will show Isis this Hat business is useless.'

Rose met Isis for lunch at a café near St. Mungo's, or rather, Purge and Dowse, Ltd. Passing shoppers paid no attention to the two witches as they laughed over the stack of profiles of "suitable" wizards.

"Well, you got me into this mess, which one should I owl first?"

"I think wand&bone looks promising. It says he's a _healer_."

"If I wanted to find a nice Jewish healer and pop out ten babies, I'd ask Rabbi Levy to pick me out a nice Cohen boy. Your cousins are lovely, but I don't think I could handle a second extended family as large and intrusive as my own."

"You can say obnoxious, I don't mind. Merlin knows they are. When I get married, it'll be like in that old film, _My Big Fat Greek Wedding_—except kosher."

"I wish I had your certainty that I will get married. After these profiles, I think I'm even less likely to find someone."

"Let me take this stack home with me, see if any others stand out as possibles. But you should owl this wand&bone guy."

"Everyone exaggerates on these things. He's probably a mediwizard drop-out who lives in his mother's basement passing himself as a fully qualified Healer."

"Maybe, but it also says that his favorite philosopher is John Rawls. He can't be all bad."

"Fine, so Rawls is my weakness. I blame my mother."

"It says that he's looking for his _Beatrice_; awww, how sweet."

"Great, because I really want a sexless relationship with a Quattrocento poet. What's he going to do, read me _Purgatorio_ at night before we go to bed?"

"Come on, at least it's a better line than 'looking for his Lizzie Bennet,' I mean yes, we love Jane, but at this point any man that claims knowledge of _Pride and Prejudice_ either has a sister or saw the movie trailer and thought that it would go down well with witches. Hell, I bet this one's sister wrote his profile!"

"Let's owl her then. She sounds like fun."

"Rose, one little owl won't send you down the aisle. It's just a little flirting."

"Fine. But if he doesn't like animals, I'm pulling the plug."

"Pulling the what? Nevermind. Just write something," commanded Isis as she slid scented parchment to Rose.

"Scented parchment? Really?"

"I think it gives it a little something extra, don't you think?" Rose sniffed it. It matched her favorite perfume, a floral and fruit scent with a light woody base and a hint of musk. She had found it at a muggle shop last season.

"You just happened to have parchment scented with my perfume?"

"I bought you a box by post from Scrivenshaft's. The rest should be at your flat by now. I thought you could use some encouragement to write."

"You're the best! But what do I write?"

"Tell him that you noticed that he likes John Rawls and Dante. Ask if he likes animals, since he didn't mention pets. Four sentences tops. And write to the other guy too, you never know."

"Yeah, his sister and I could get along like fiendfyre."

…

Rose was glad to return to her desk when she noticed the paper airplane waiting for her. Perhaps Uncle Harry had responded to her request to investigate a suspected rare plant smuggling ring in Devon.

Rose,

Meeting to discuss your report on the Devon smuggling ring at 2pm, small briefing room.

Harry

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Auror Office expanded greatly in the post-war period. Shacklebolt's recruitment of survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts for Auror training began the expansion of active Aurors initially.

The official headquarters for the Aurors remained inside of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement offices at the Ministry. Auror investigations were often undercover operations. Despite the numerous battles within the Ministry building during the last war, it remained too public and accessible. Therefore a second location was necessary to maintain secure offices at Owlpen Grange. A third location in Knockturn Alley was used to meet with Aurors during undercover operations. Formerly the storefront for Borgin and Burkes, the store continued to maintain its trade in Dark artifacts as a cover, but the back rooms were extended and expanded to include briefing rooms and a bunk room. A pair of vanishing cabinets linked the back rooms of the storefront to the Grange.

Rose made a series of apparitions before finally appariting to the secure offices housed in a grand estate in Wiltshire. She made her way to the small briefing room and pulled out her notes to review her case so far. It had been a bit of luck really that she happened to read about the Ottery Norton Flower Show organized by the Women's Institute. Normally a muggle horticultural show wouldn't attract her attention, but a prize-winning cactus that looked suspiciously like Neville's treasured **_Mimbulus mimbletonia _****in full color on the cover of _WI Life_ did_._ When she asked Neville to help her identify the other plants in the photograph accompanying the article in the magazine, Neville spotted a rare _Platanthera_ **_maritima_. _P. maritima_ and _M. mimbletonia_ are both regulated and certainly wouldn't be found in a normal muggle horticulture show. Rose did some background digging and suspected a smuggling ring.

Harry greeted Rose warmly before taking his seat. Others filled the room gradually.

"Well Rose, it seems everyone has arrived. Please begin your briefing," said Harry.

"Thank you, Commissioner. As you likely already know, I've discovered a plant smuggling ring in Devon that appears to involve wizards and muggles. A Squib called Mildred Diggle is the key point of contact between the smuggling ring and the muggle purchasers. While a case without gross bodily harm or death that included the involvement of muggles would normally be referred to the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, the rarity of the smuggled plants suggest a larger organized criminal organization. The willful disregard for the International Secrecy Act and the intentional endangerment of muggles via exposure to magical plants indicate the unmistakable characteristics of muggle-baiting."

"Miss Weasley, how do you suggest we proceed, _if _we do not refer this matter to the MWEC?" asked Kirke.

"My confidential informant was unable to give names of the wizards involved. I propose an undercover investigation of Mildred Diggle to infiltrate the smuggling ring. Mrs. Diggle is a retired schoolteacher and amateur horticulturalist. By moving into her village and posing as a fellow horticulture enthusiast, I believe I will be able to make contact with the smuggling ring," replied Rose.

"So, you'll move into Ottery Norton and do some coat-trailing with the villagers, shouldn't take long. Malfoy, are you prepared to go back under?" asked Proudfoot.

"Certainly, sir. It will be invaluable to have Miss Weasley's herbological knowledge on hand to sell our legend. I couldn't tell a cutting of Devil's Snare from a Flitterbloom if my life depended on it," replied Scorpius Malfoy. He waited for the polite tittering to finish before he continued, "I think that her extensive herbological knowledge should compensate sufficiently for my lack of enthusiasm for dirigible plums."

"Excellent. Entwhistle, I assume your lamplighters are available?" asked Harry.

"Yes Commissioner, and I can have a team of pavement artists available if needed. Miss Weasley, how did Diggle's security category come up?" asked Malala Entwhistle

"She's had little involvement in the wizarding world since she came of age. The Competition have her rated as Persil."

"Very well. See the shoemakers about your legend and the housekeepers regarding accounts before you leave today. Meeting adjourned," said Harry. Rose remained behind to talk with Malfoy.

"The Inquisitors finished with you then Malfoy?" asked Rose.

"Hmm, inquisitors, yes, through chaps, aren't they?" replied Scorpius vaguely as if they were discussing afternoon tea instead of his month long debrief at the Grange following coming in from the cold.

"Was Selwyn quizmaster? I should think they'd have chosen Selwyn." Scorpius flattened his expression before replying.

"Yes, Selwyn doesn't hold back, knows his job."

"Have you any additional insights into the case?" asked Rose.

"Surely the Senior Wrangler has no need of my analysis." Rose rolled her eyes. "But what about meeting your confidential informant?" Rose stiffened and then relaxed just enough for Malfoy to read her coming lie. She hadn't expected anyone to request a meeting. No way would Rose confess to Malfoy that the confidential informant in her first major case was her gran's WI newsletter.

"My agent. Diggle was out of his sphere really, but he happened across this information and passed it along. If he comes across additional information, there are protocols in place that the lamplighters know. There is no need to expose my agent to satisfy your curiosity," replied Rose.

"We all need our little secrets, don't we, Rosie," said Scorpius. "Nevermind that, let's see the housekeepers about the dosh."

…

Three days later Rose drove the latest Chelsea tractor, an electric Land Rover, through Ottery Norton. Her recognizable Weasley red hair was blonde and her eyebrows dark. She had changed her nose and her eye color. She just hoped that it was enough to protect her cover. For the first year after graduating Hogwarts her picture and her status as an auror in training were published frequently. The press grew bored of her as she frequently worked protection details at Ministry events rather than make big busts. Rose hoped that would change soon; not the celebrity but definitely making the big busts. Or any busts, at all.

She met the estate agent outside of the dilapidated farmhouse and acted the part of the young urban professional moving to the country. She put an impossibly cheerful face on as she inquired about installing internet service for her husband. She raved to the bored estate agent about starting a family and the 'fresh air' and repeated to herself that her embarrassingly dull legend would payoff in the end. In the old outbuildings she found a broken wheelbarrow and transfigured it into an older model bike and cycled a mile or so into the village for her debut performance as Sophie Pritchard.

Rose leaned the bicycle against the lamppost outside the newsagents. She noticed a flyer indicating a meeting later that evening in the village hall to discuss preparations for the upcoming "Best Kept Village" competition. Perfect opening gambit, thought Rose.

Rose chatted with everyone during her errands to the grocer and newsagent, mentioning her and her husband's purchase of the old Blackamoor farm. She discussed the champion sheepdog handler the next village over and conservation schemes. She appeared interested in the latest anecdotal reports regarding Defra's twenty-five year bovine TB eradication program. After appearing to be supportive of the local blood thirst for badgers, Rose managed a getaway.

Rose returned to the farmhouse and heard noises inside. She grabbed the shotgun from above the door and shouted, "Show yourself! I am armed and calling the police!"

"Dear girl, you're a witch, why are you holding that firearmy?" asked a dark-haired tanned man she didn't recognize.

"My name is Sophie Pritchard and this is a shotgun, which at this range will blow a hole right through your chest. Who the bloody hell are you and what are you doing in my house!"

"Now Rose it isn't nice to greet your husband as just any 'hey you' off the street."

"Prove it. The tea at Pudifoot's is fine."

"Seriously?" asked the man with incredulity. Rose poked his chest with the shotgun. "Fine, but the Leaky Cauldron has the best pumpkin scones," recited the man stiffly. "Satisfied?"

"No. Where did we go on school trip first year?"

"Guedelon. Tsk, tsk, Rose, too easy of a question. Every Hogwarts firstie goes to Guedelon on school trip for Muggle Studies. Might think you were the one that was getting off easy. Who dared Patrick Finnegan to levitate the stones in the crane that caused the French Ministry Oblivators to have to oblivate the whole castle?"

"That would be you and my darling cousin Albus who were the cause of three years setback of building that castle," replied Rose. "Well, your human transfiguration certainly has improved since training. Transfiguring skin color has always eluded me, maybe my wand movement is off…the follow-through is key," said Rose while practicing the wand movement with the shotgun.

"Rose, why don't we make dinner and you can tell your husband all about your first day in our new home," said Scorpius as he lowered the shotgun barrel away from himself and guided Rose into the kitchen.

"Well, get the groceries out of my bike basket then."

Rose briefed Scorpius on village issues and the people that she had met that day. Scorpius agreed that working in the Best Kept Village competition would be good for inconspicuously interviewing villagers and lurking about in churchyards while spying on people. Luckily Rose could cook without magic and talk at the same time. Scorpius sat at the table and watched as she cooked over the old Aga.

"I hear that you're supposed to turn these things off once May rolls around, but I've no clue how to do that. Apparently one cooks on a barbecue outside for everything May to September. I wonder if that includes the tea kettle."

"We'll buy an eckeltric kettle. Does the village have a cricket team?"

"_You _play cricket?"

"I can learn. I've seen muggles play it, it can't be too hard."

"There are like a million rules in cricket."

"I'll read the handbook."

…

Two of the wizarding world's most recognizable twenty-somethings outside of professional quidditch had completely disappeared into their work. Sophie and Jai Pritchard arrived a few minutes early to the preparation meeting for the best kept village competition. At the doorway to the old hall they were met by a portly man with a lazy eye.

"Munro Dudgeon. You've bought old Blackamoor Farm, haven't you."

"Yes. Jai Pritchard. And this is my gorgeous wife, Sophie."

"Have you considered replacing the roof on the farmhouse? Could do with a bit of work, I'd say. Blackamoor would never do it. Leaks buckets in winter, so says my wife, but Blackamoor would never do it. Never met a man who could hang on to a pound longer than he. Ah, well, shan't speak ill of the dead, shall we? I'll send young Tom Andrews round your part next week to see about that roof."

Once past Dudgeon and inside, a middle-aged couple approached them.

"Susan and Peter Wickens, so you've come about helping around the village for the competition, then?"

"Yes, we've just moved to the village—the old Blackamoor Farm."

"Yes, yes, Blackamoor, wretched roof, what?" replied Peter Wickens.

"I'm sure they've made plans to replace that roof straight away. They'll being having Bill Perowne round to do it soon, won't you?" said Susan Wickens.

"Yes, well, we had heard that Tom Andrews was well thought of," said Jai.

"Young Tom's good enough, but Bill Perowne is very reliable, always rings you back," said Peter.

"I say, the village green seems large enough for cricket. There isn't a village team, by any chance, is there?" asked Jai.

"Come, I'll introduce you to Soole."

"While the men are talking cricket, perhaps we could meet other ladies from the village, hmm?" asked Susan as she grabbed Rose by the elbow and steered her into a gaggle of middle-aged women. Rose concealed her natural horror with enthusiasm,

"The estate agent mentioned the local WI was very active."

"Then you must meet Mildred. Mildred, this is Sophie Pritchard. She's interested in jam and Jerusalem. She and her husband've just bought old Blackamoor farm," said Susan.

"Blackamoor farm, yes. Awful roof, the hearth smokes, and the attics are atrocious. Mrs. Maybrick did say it sold to some Londoners with more money than sense. Jam and Jerusalem, you said Sue, yes, well, come along to next meeting. Tanith Barton will be discussing planting schemes for window boxes, Thursday at 4pm. The book club is reading A Force to be Reckoned With by Jane Robinson. Book club meets at the Cat and Custard every other Monday. Right, well, ladies, this meeting certainly won't start itself. Attention, please. If you are here for preparations for the best kept village competition, sit yourself down. Vicar, if you please…" said Mildred Diggle.

Sophie and Jai tried their best to be attentive, however the realities of planning to pick up litter in a lay-by are pointless and boring. They nudged each other awake when the other nodded off.

"Our stream clean-up will be on the last weekend of April. Also, the churchyard benches need mending, if I could have a few volunteers," said Rev. Venables-Cox. Sophie elbowed Jai as he was sleeping, causing him to jump to his feet. "Wonderful! It is heartening to see young people take an interest in rural life." Sophie pulled her husband back down into his folding chair.

"Darling, what did you just volunteer me to do?" whispered Jai as he stretched his arm and draped it across Sophie's shoulder. She settled comfortably into the crook of his shoulder.

"You volunteered yourself for fixing a couple of benches in the churchyard. I'm sure you can manage," replied Sophie quietly. Jai rested his hand on her thigh and distracted himself from the remainder of the meeting by tracing doodles on her bare leg. Sophie tried the best she could to remain unaffected by the hand that crept higher and higher.

The meeting adjourned and Jai slide his hand to rest at the small of Sophie's back as he guided her through the milling villagers as they made their goodbyes and left. To their neighbors the Pritchards were a _very _happily married couple whom neighbors were glad had bought the Blackamoor farm. They chatted about village nonsense but remained an intimate couple as they walked home in the darkness.

At the farmhouse Sophie turned to Jai and said, "Scorpius, you can stop touching me now. We're inside and no one is looking."

"Sweetheart, playing a part during an undercover operation requires absolute commitment. I am your husband. You are my wife. Therefore, we are physically intimate with each other." He approached Rose, backing her against the kitchen table. "We have to demonstrate that we know every inch of each other's body." He leaned in to kiss her but stopped and whispered, "I need to know your reaction to a caress of your cheek, your back, your thigh—I'm method, baby." He backed away, smirked, and went upstairs. Rose closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing.

"Don't call me baby!" she shouted after him.


	2. Chapter 2

By Thursday morning Rose was both settled and shaken. She slid into her legend with ease. Part of that ease came from the intimacy of living with her husband. Feeling at ease living with Scorpius Malfoy was weird. Whenever one of her cousins stayed with her at her flat, she couldn't wait for them to leave. Their bathroom habits or eating habits or something else would pester her until she found another place for them to stay. Living in the old farmhouse Rose couldn't wait for Scorpius to return from interviewing villagers. She didn't mind sharing the small double bed; she liked listening to Scorpius's breathing, knowing that he was right there with her if there was an intruder. Not that there was any likelihood of there actually being an intruder, or that she would need help defending herself, but rather she just enjoyed spending time with her partner…oh bugger. It was just a crush and he didn't even look like himself. As soon as this assignment was over, things would go back to normal.

Rose was reassuring herself that crushes are natural and pass with time when she walked into the village hall early for the Women's Institute meeting. She hoped to get closer to Mildred Diggle, find out more about her friends and possible suspects for the smuggling ring. But as Sophie walked inside the hall she couldn't see Mildred. Sophie walked to the front of the room, and there on the floor, lay the dead body of Mildred Diggle. Rose recognized the effects of the killing curse immediately from her training. Rose pulled a two pound coin out of her own pocket, pressed the center and whispered into it, "Diggle found dead. AK used by unknown assailant." As Sophie Pritchard she pulled out her mobile and called 999. "Send an ambulance to the village hall in Ottery Norton. A woman has collapsed, I think that she might be dead. Please hurry."

Sophie stayed and watched emergency services attempt to revive Mildred Diggle. What a waste of time. She couldn't interrupt their futile attempts to resuscitate Mildred by telling them that she already knew that Mildred was dead, the signs of Avada Kedavra, or the only wizards known to have survived the curse. None of that could help Mildred now. Sophie gave her statement to police and accepted a lift home. She numbly entered the farmhouse.

"What parts did we have in the play our third year?" asked Scorpius.

"Not now."

"Tsk, tsk, constant vigilance is needed. You know what they say, negligence costs lives, loose lips sink ships."

"Shut up, shut up, stop your idiotic prattle." Scorpius approached her entering into her personal space.

"What parts did we have in the play in our third year?"

Rose began pounding his chest with her fists. Scorpius wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into his body to constrain her fists. She stilled her arms and sobbed, "Mildred Diggle is dead. They've killed her. She's dead!"

"Shh, it's alright…shh"

"It isn't alright. They used the killing curse. She was preparing for a WI meeting and now she's dead from dark magic in the middle of the afternoon in Ottery bloody Norton. It isn't bloody alright!"

"Go pack a small bag. We'll tell the villagers your aunt took a tumble. The oblivators will have to deal with the coroner, but that's no real bother. Go!"

In the car Scorpius asked her what she did at the crime scene, what she remembered. She reviewed each detail, but there was nothing to go on. The hall was tidy, rows of folding chairs facing a demonstration table. Scorpius drove to a multi-storey car park next to a London airport. He transfigured back into himself and Rose did the same.

"We're doing a cleaning run; three apparition points before our final destination. You'll side-along, so for God's sake hold tight and concentrate. Can't have you splinching. First leg, three, two, one, now." Scorpius turned on his heel, completed the apparition and pointed his wand over his shoulder and said, "Relashio." Scorpius repeated this pattern of appariting and then casting the revulsion jinx, each time sending the jinx in a different direction. Rose added her own revulsion jinx opposite his. Rose clung to his left arm as they travelled.

Once outside the Grange, she let go and walked quickly into the grand house. Scorpius jogged a little to catch up to her. She stopped abruptly and turned on her heel. "You. Will. Not. Tell. Anyone. I. Cried." she said, poking his chest to add emphasis to each word. "Savvy?"

"Savvy. Besides sweetheart, who would believe that the Grange's best hit-witch cried over a squib?"

"You don't have clearance to know anything about that."

"Well, people talk." Rose shook her head.

"Now, we will debrief and return to the farmhouse by nine. We're going to have to really dig into our covers and become completely involved in village life to learn everything we can about Diggle."

"I love it when you tell me what to do," said Scorpius suggestively. Rose rolled her eyes at him.

One of the terribly efficient Mothers, Ms. Nutcombe-Toots, met them at the Grange entrance. "Hail to thee, blithe spirit! How are your nuts keeping, Tooty? Triumphed over the squirrels or do they merely retreat to organize a counter-attack?" joked Scorpius.

"Oh Scorpius, it is good to see you again. Are you coming in for a chat or a longer stay?"

"Just a quick chin-wag with the Proudfoot, if he's about."

"Time for a cup of tea?"

"Tea and crumpets for the conquering heros, eh? Bet you'd butter my crumpet. But I'm'friad not Tooty, dragons to slay, damsels to rescue—damn tedious stuff, rescuing damsels."

"I'll just check to see if Odo is available," said Rose. Rose left Scorpius to charm the Mothers. She found Proudfoot debriefing the Oblivators after their mission in Ottery Norton. After dismissing the debriefing, Proudfoot signed for Mildred Diggle's body.

"Weasley, walk with me." The body bag hovered behind Proudfoot as he walked.

"Where are we going?" asked Rose. Proudfoot just stared at her. "Right it would be a little ghoulish to keep the body at your desk." Proudfoot continued to stare at her. "And of course the coroner and forensic examiner will need to examine the body, which they can't do at your desk, of course." Proudfoot blinked.

"Tell me about Diggle."

"There wasn't much to tell. Not many visitors…"

"I can get surveillance details from the lamplighters. You have behavioral analysis training. You met her, what was she like?"

"The only crime we can connect her to is violating the International Secrecy Act and as a Squib, little of the Act truly applies to her. Given her lifestyle choice that leads to her interactions daily with Muggles, I think that Muggle-baiting isn't her. No one was harmed by her plants specifically, so she could see the crime as victim-less. As a collector, possession of rare or unknown plants increased her status among her Muggle friends. I think that she had poor self-esteem, which she compensated for by being officious and occasionally overbearing, but no homicidal tendencies."

"Good. What about the involvement of dark magic now, do you have any suspects in mind?"

"The only clue that we have from Diggle's murder so far is that she was killed by a witch or wizard. Hopefully the forensic examiners can find more." Rose paused, then carefully and slowly began, "However, sir"

"Spit it out Weasley."

"Afternoon in a Muggle village, sir—the time and place of the attack suggest that this killer is confident enough to take such a risk. It's likely that this killer has murdered before."

"Will he kill again?"

"It is impossible to say, but given the right circumstances, he or she will kill again."

"Where the hell is Malfoy?"

"Lavatory. Ate something that didn't agree with him."

"Hey boss, glad I found you, that Diggle's body?"

"Malfoy, good of you to join us."

"Yeah, sorry I was late, healer's appointment," said Scorpius.

"That's the best excuse you could come up with, Malfoy?"

"Won't happen again, boss."

"So we think that the murder is connected to the smuggling ring."

"Yes, sir, that seems to be how it is shaping up," replied Rose.

"Well, stick to the smuggling for now. The forensic report will take days, possibly closer to two weeks before we can identify the wand that cast the killing curse. Better dig in with the village, you're likely to be there for some time," said Proudfoot, and he left Rose and Scorpius in a corridor.

One of the mothers approached them.

"Rose, there's quite a lot of post accumulating on your desk. I know you're out on assignment, but, well, there's bags of letters. I'm not quite sure what to do with it all," said Rebecca Peasegood. Rose frowned.

"Well, how many bags of post are there?"

"You receiving fan letters now Rosie?" Rose pulled Rebecca down the hallway away from Scorpius.

"Seriously, how many letters have I received?"

"I'm not sure really. I haven't counted."

"Ten, twenty?"

"More like one or two hundred."

"Hundred!" shrieked Rose. Rebecca looked alarmed. "Okay, well, um could you bring the letters to the secure offices and I'll be back at the weekend to sort through them all. I have a feeling that my friends sent letters on my behalf and that these letters are the replies."

"Um sure, I'll have them brought over right away. I'll leave them at my desk and you can go through them all whenever you get a moment." Rebecca paused. "Why are there so many letters though? Who did your friends write to?"

"Well, just before I took the assignment I'm on, I joined the Matching Hat, you know, the dating service? My friends were pestering me and I figured I'd join,"

"Have a few terrible dates, and get your friends to back off the fact that you're married to your job?"

"Precisely," said Rose. "I guess they got a little carried away and wrote to some of the blokes on my behalf." Rebecca laughed appreciatively. "If you could not mention that to the other mothers, I'd really appreciate it."

"Mum's the word." Rose left Rebecca and found Scorpius chatting up a lamplighter meant to be filing a report. Instead, the young woman was trying to tell Scorpius that she was engaged to be married to a pavement artist. Rose swooped in to the scene in time to prevent the agitated artist from turning Scorpius's head into a toilet plunger.

"Thanks for the save there partner, I think I was having trouble convincing her that I was interested in having a friendly drink to discuss surveillance technique with her girlfriend."

"Do you realize that that witch not only wasn't interested in men, but could sue you for sexual harassment in the workplace? Were you born an idiot or does your technique come from years of careful study? Don't answer that, I don't care. Out of curiosity, what qualifications do you require for a woman to possess other than a pulse before you chat her up?"

"You have a pulse, but I'd never chat you up. So I guess my qualifications for a woman are a pulse and not Weasley." Rose rolled her eyes.

"Are you clear on Proudfoot's orders for us?"

"We will return to Ottery Norton and we will seek out the wicked weasels of the wild wood, and we'll whack 'em and whack 'em and whack 'em!"

"There will be no whacking of weasels, they're perfectly respectable creatures. Merlin, Scorpius! Would you please be serious for once!"

"I'm never more serious than when I'm joking," replied Scorpius. Rose stared at him.

"We need a plan of attack, or rather, of infiltration. People are naturally more talkative at funerals. Mildred Diggle's funeral will be in a few days. They'll be burying a dead garden gnome transfigured to look like Mildred's corpse, of course, but the Muggles don't know that."

"Where did they find a dead garden gnome?" interrupted Scorpius.

"My grandmother sends them to the Oblivators when she finds them. Apparently garden gnomes are easily transfigured when dead and elderly garden gnomes are prone to acute myocardial infarction."

"Acute fartation?"

"The damn things see one of Albus's ferrets, think it's a Jarvey, and have a heart attack. And my grandmother, bless her, found a use for the wretched little corpses that litter the lawn."

"Why don't the Oblivators just kill a gnome when they need one? Nasty little buggers infest everything in sight."

"Because that would be inhumane."

"Garden gnomes are a pestilence and certainly not humane. Well, one of those little buggers will certainly be having a funeral above his station."

"Never mind all that, I wasn't paying attention to where you parked the car. Where should we apparite to? Shall I meet you outside one of the airport terminals?"

"Side-along again," commanded Scorpius, holding out his arm in a gentleman-like manner.

"No."

"Why not? You did it before—even managed not to splinch yourself."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I hate depending on other people."

"Rose, we're partners. Think of it this way, you depend on me, and I depend on you, so really it's just you depending on yourself. You depend on yourself all the time, right? Good." And without giving her a moment's notice, he slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her against his chest, and disapparited.

"Damnit Scorpius! We could have splinched ourselves in half, what the hell were you thinking!" Before Scorpius could make his reply, a car horn echoed through-out the car park.

"Oi! Honeymoon's over, lovebirds, get out the road!" Rose pulled away from the close embrace and made to move out of the way. Scorpius stood still. She had to pull him out of the road.

"Want to explain to me how ought to trust you as my partner when you pull a stunt like this? Scorpius! Do you ever listen to what I'm saying?"

"Er, yes, fine, won't happen again, sweetheart."

"Give me the keys. I'm driving. Your brain must have been addled by your apparition technique."

Rose and Scorpius sat in the car and transfigured themselves into Sophie and Jai. Rose started the car to begin their long drive back to Ottery Norton. After two hours of out of character silence from Scorpius, Rose gave in and began discussion of a case-related topic. "So how would you go about smuggling plants into the country? Unauthorized portkeys? Or do you use Muggle shipping methods, like a cargo ship or a container on a lorry? Flying carpets would be too visible. Maybe by broomstick? I heard a story once about a large crate tethered between four or five people on broomstick." _Merlin Rose, must all your insight into criminal behavior be derived from people who have babysat you? _Luckily Scorpius was too busy analyzing his apparitions and feeling that he had been inappropriately intimate with his partner to notice Rose's pause to berate herself.

"I think it a question of size of the crate—rather—I mean—the quantity of smuggled merchandise, plants in this case—moving really large quantities would be least conspicuous by lorry. The climate inside could be regulated and the plants protected from damage that magical transportation tends to cause," replied Scorpius.

"We need to know how many plants are being moved at a time. Too many questions, not enough answers. I don't think that being a buyer will give us enough information. We need to really drag the coattails, go down the local, have you talking about money troubles—a gambling problem, and frequent international business trips; show you to be a perfect mule."

"I don't agree," replied Scorpius. "I think that a slower approach as a potential buyer will yield more in the long run. Being a mule gives limited information about the organization in my experience."

"_If_ the organization is well-trained, then the mule is kept in the dark about everything except the port of departure and port of arrival. But even this information is useful. Burrowing into this new information could yield substantial leads. And in my opinion criminals are not infallible—they make mistakes just like the rest of us."

"I count us lucky that some of the stupidest criminals in the world reside in Britain. However, we ought not to rely upon their mistakes or underestimate our opponent—not the done thing, old boy. The departure and arrival points for the mule could, for all we know, be points in a series of mules using a cutout-style of transporting the goods. As a buyer we can learn about how long it takes them to complete a transaction, their methods of conducting transactions, their inventory, etc."

"But Scorpius, if we insert ourselves into the middle of their transactions as a mule, we learn of and therefore can follow personnel at departure and arrival points."

"But Rose, if our lamplighters lose track of said personnel, we're done for. We cannot rely upon having a second chance to follow the mouse back to the hole. If we are the buyer, multiple transactions can be initiated, giving us unlimited opportunity to track the baddies."

"Good point. I'm impressed Scorpius, there is something of brilliance in what you say, right up to the point you referred to the individuals of the criminal organization that we seek to convict as 'the baddies.' Too many comic books, I think."

"They're graphic novels, not comic books," retorted Scorpius.

"Whatever. Seriously though, I think we should implement both plans. Let's ask Proudfoot for someone to play mule. We work on becoming buyers; burn the candle at both ends."

"Talk about unusual usage of idioms."

"You know what I mean."

"So your incorrect usage of an idiom is okay, but my _correct _usage isn't."

"It makes you sound like an idiot."

"I thought you said I was born an idiot."

"Yes, well, I'm trying to teach you to mask that quality for as long as possible while conversing. Merlin knows you need all the help you can get." After Rose's last retort they lapsed into silence until Scorpius began fiddling with the car wireless. Near Ottery Norton he even managed to pick up a woman reciting random numbers.

"This is what you've picked to listen to, out of all the Muggle wireless stations, you choose the woman speaking nonsense. Do you have trouble understanding anything that isn't nonsense or do you not like your women to have sense?"

"Baby, don't you worry, I like all women."

"Shame they don't like you. I'll drop you at the pub, there's Aunt Sally tonight. I'll do the dead drop requesting Proudfoot to put a mule in place. I wish we had a dog. No one questions where you walk if you have a dog at the end of a leash."

"Didn't know you had a thing for using a leash. I always figured more whips and chains."

"Just go play Aunt Sally and try not to blow our cover." Rose stopped in front of the Cat and Custard. Scorpius leaned over to kiss her cheek. Rose turned her head, and their lips met briefly.

"Kiss for luck," whispered Scorpius. In his normal voice Scorpius continued, "Didn't know a kiss was all it took to shut you up, partner." He winked and opened the car door before she could properly reply.

Rose settled for needling him in character, "Jai darling, don't drink too much, I'm ovulating!"

Scorpius turned and walked back to the car and said loudly, "Get some rest before tonight." Rose's mouth was slightly parted and Scorpius grabbed her through the open window and kissed ferociously, sloppily. In turn she messed up his hair as much as possible. She pulled away from him quickly, and pulled out of the car park spewing gravel in every direction.

Rose drove to the churchyard and parked. From her shoe she took out a pebble and whispered her message into it. She pulled a pair of shears out of the boot and began doing some light pruning in the churchyard, tidying the area around each gravestone. Using a piece of chalk she surreptitiously marked two particular gravestones. At a third gravestone Rose placed the small pebble on top.

In the pub Jai bought himself a drink and sat down. Soon he was joined by young Tom Andrews. Young Tom Andrews was about forty years old but only looked about thirty. His father was called Scatty Andrews and his grandfather called old Tom Andrews. Young Tom Andrews was overqualified and underemployed, chiefly because word had gone round that he was prone to having an affair with the lady of the house he was roofing. In consequence Bill Perowne, who left more holes than he repaired and was a plumber by trade, had more roofing work than he could complete. The more pertinent reason for Bill Perowne's fortune was his halitosis, which kept even the most determined adulteress away.

Young Tom began by way of introduction with the obvious.

"So, I hear that you've bought Blackamoor farm. Roof needs work. Can't have that pretty wife of yous using all the crockery with catch the drips. Can't warm the bed if the house is damp, eh?" laughed young Tom.

Rev. Venables-Cox and Captain Soole joined them just before Jai offered to buy the next round.

"The next match is against Freeman's Cross. We'll have you in and Rev. Venables-Cox will ride the bench," announced Soole.

Jai objected.

"It will be a service to me, young man, to sit out a game. I play only to make up the number." When Jai returned to the table with the next round of drinks, he began again.

"Speaking of numbers, oddest thing was on the wireless earlier. I was looking for a wireless station to listen to, and found one that only said random numbers. I've never heard of anything like it. It is some sort of local lottery game?" asked Jai. The other three men chuckled and exchanged knowing looks.

"You found Munro's numbers station," began Soole.

"Munro Dudgeon?"

"The very same," said Rev. Venables-Cox.

"Why do you call it his station? Does he work for the station?" asked Jai.

"Goodness no, Munro is trying to help catch Soviet sleeper agents. He thinks he is helping MI-5."

"What do the numbers have to do with the Cold War? Hasn't that all been over for decades?"

"Some of us lads think Munro maybe the Soviet sleeper agent waiting for orders that will never come. Sad, is it? But Munro listens to the numbers every day, no matter what," said young Tom.

"Damn nuisance. Once he walked off the pitch mid-inning to listen to those damn numbers. Sticking his nose where it don't belong, that's what. Lot of foolishness, playing at spies. There's Aunt Sally tonight, will you be playing?"

"Sure, what are the teams?"

"Well, you can take Magnus Fawcett's place on our team. He's away on business till next week."

"Fawcett? I don't think I've met him. What does he do?" asked Jai.

"He's one of those treehuggers striving to save the world before tea," replied Soole.

"He's a nice enough bloke really. Likes plants. Travels quite a bit for environmental conferences—all over the world really, last I heard he was going to Singapore," said the Reverend.

"Married? All that time apart can be difficult on a marriage."

"There was a Mrs. Fawcett once, but she ran off with a schoolteacher."

"Who's the other team?"

"Chaps from Upottery. Bell ringers. Good, before they're in their cups."

* * *

author's note: I know that this is slow going in the beginning. I hope that you'll find that it gets better.


	3. Chapter 3

The smell upon leaving the farmhouse that morning was of a pop-up loo in central London covered with sick. Rose found Scorpius asleep in the Land Rover.

"What are you doing?" asked Rose.

"shh, please stop shouting," said Scorpius groggily while miming an overly expressive kindergarten teacher.

"I'm not shouting, I'm speaking at a normal volume. Why are you sleeping in the car?"

"shh, for all that is holy and sacred. I couldn't find the key and the door was locked."

"Why didn't you just knock?" whispered Rose.

"Because I thought you would shoot first and question after."

"Huh?"

"You're scary, you know that? Brilliant, and incredibly sexy, but scary."

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

"I knew you wanted me in bed!" Scorpius tried to pull himself out of the car and throw his arm around Rose's shoulders, and managed to step in old vomit.

"Maybe some food first, you're still drunk if you think that I want to have sex with you." Rose wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him into the farmhouse. "You smell disgusting. I hope it was worth it. Sit, I'll fix you something." She pushed him into a kitchen chair. He fell off the other side. Rose turned to fix some yakamein. She placed a bottle of sports drink and a pill in front Scorpius' place. "Take that with that. Drink the whole bottle."

"I heard that you killed a man with a credit card once. Like a ninja, _without _magic," said Scorpius in an awed voice from the floor.

"And I will do it again if you do not shut up and drink that." Scorpius swallowed the pill and started drinking the sports drink. Rose waited until he had finished the bottle to ask, "How did this happen?"

"You dropped me at the local."

"Yes, so that you would be in position to get the villagers happy and chatty to the point of verbal diarrhea. Clearly that was reckless optimism. Did you manage to get any useful information before blowing our cover?!"

"Please stop shouting. I had to keep up with the villagers, be one of the lads, you know,"

"Oh right, you're method and I'm not your baby. Do you even remember what was said?"

"Possibly not, but I have a recording app on my mobile, that should have everything."

"Good, hopefully it wasn't a complete waste of time. Give me your mobile." She placed the yakamein in front of Scorpius. "Eat this." Scorpius managed to pull from his pockets a mobile, a mobile battery, a SIM card, and the battery cover for someone else's mobile.

"Couldn't you just pick up something from J. Pippin's? This looks weird."

"We're living as _Muggles_. We must have total commitment to our undercover life, including hangover remedies. Method, remember?"

"Oh, stuff it. Just one little potion isn't going to give the game away. What about Slug and Jiggers or Mulpepper's?"

"No and no. Should have realized there'd be no hangover potion before getting soused as one of the lads. Just eat that and go to bed."

"Sweetheart, if you want me in bed, I'm not going to be eating that. Smells like stewed socks." Rose was annoyed at this description of her version of Old Sober. She had made it in the slow cooker the night before just in case of his hangover. _Why did I even bother for him_, Rose asked herself.

"Eat or suffer through the hangover, see if I care. I'm off to the shops to chat about Mildred's death."

"There's a hard boiled egg in this."

"Yes there is, well spotted. Goodbye."

…

On Saturday morning Rose and Scorpius attempted to mend the churchyard bench with muggle tools. They did not get on well.

"You know, it's quite odd that there's only one yew in the churchyard," said Rose as she watched Scorpius fiddle with a piece of lumber and an electric saw.

"Maybe they cut the rest down."

"Perhaps, but usually when there's yew in a churchyard, there's a lot of it, tall, thousand year old plants forming a great big hedge. Not just a dinky one in the corner, squeezed next to a wall."

"So, do you want to dig it out and bring it in for questioning? Have Selwyn quiz the plant's legend?" joked Scorpius.

"Shh, not so loud someone could hear you, _Jai_."

"Ros—" Rose punched him in the arm. "ow, Sophie, look around. It's miserably grey and wet out and we have a vantage point over this entire end of the village, we'd see anyone half a mile off."

"Just in case we need to maintain cover. That yew makes me uneasy, that's all. I know I'm being silly, but the whole village, the landscape design is deliberate. This yew just seems—"

"Sinister?"

"No, yews aren't sinister, they're supposed to be protective. Just the planting is such an odd spot, it attracts attention in a way that clearly isn't intentional, it's—discordant, that's the word for it."

"A discordant yew. I shall inform the church committee immediately and prepare plans to drive it from the village!" Scorpius finished with a mock salute. Rose smiled at the salute, in spite of herself.

"After we repair this bench. God, I wish you could just whip your wand out—"

"Any time sweetheart"

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. But I'm gonna let it go, ignore the subconscious declarations of your true feelings for me, and soldier on with the job at hand."

"Give me the wo—lumber, I said lumber."

"Caught another declaration of your desire for my body just then, didn't you. Too bad you're not my type. Our children would be miniature smokin' hot assassins, little hit-witches and hit wizards. I figure we'd have to have enough to satisfy your Weasley brood tendencies, so a Quidditch team, give or take a seeker, because really, that position is sort of superfluous to the main thrust of any good match."

"Seven children…with you…ha! I'd have to have gone mad. And you're wrong about the seeker. I'll fix the bench, you just prattle on about something that won't blow our cover."

"Oh, I'll tell you about cricket, I've been researching you know. Apparently it is considered a very English sport. There's this famous poem about cricket—There's a breathless hush in the Close tonight Ten to make and the match to win A bumping pitch and a blinding light An hour to play and the last man in. And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat, Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote "Play up! Play up! And play the game!"—charming, isn't it. Except that it compares being a soldier in war to playing a game of cricket, which is just rubbish. Perhaps there is some chumminess that soldiers share that is similar to playing sport as a team, but war is war. Are all you-know-whats this daft, or just this chappie? Or maybe he's a total sociopath who thinks that killing others is part of a game. What do you think?"

"I think that I've fixed the bench."

"Impossible!"

"Test it out—go on." Scorpius tentatively sat on the bench. Nothing happened.

"Oh well done darling," said Scorpius before he pulled her onto his lap. She rested in his arms and caught herself staring into his grey eyes. Rose cleared her throat.

"I think the poet compares cricket to war because there is a team element to combat at the time it was written. And sport, whether cricket or medieval hunting parties, has a similarity to war when each person is counted on to take orders and work co-operatively to defeat the enemy. But you're right, it's a complete idealization of war. Not that either of us has been in war, but I've killed people and our parents have been in war and I doubt they would consider killing a game." He seemed to consider what she said seriously, holding her gaze.

"Do your parents talk about the war often?"

"No, not really. Not specific stories or anything, but they taught us survival skills, good spells for hiding, that sort of thing. What about yours, do they talk about their war?"

"Not to reminisce, but yeah, they've talked about it. Anyway, now the bench is fixed, what else is on the agenda for today?"

"I have to pop in to work quickly, so you have a whole afternoon to yourself. I'll be back for dinner. Do try to be sober when I return."

…

In the afternoon, Rose drove to a safe house before transfiguring herself back to normal and appariting to the Grange. She found two small sacks on Rebecca's desk. She cast an enlargement charm on the sacks. Letters were spilling out of the sacks in every direction. She began by pulling up a chair and opening a letter. After forty letters, Rose came to the conclusion that her friends had written to every unattached wizard in Great Britain. She wanted to incendio the whole lot, but then she thought how awful it would be to be waiting on the other end and simply not receive a reply after writing to someone through the Matching Hat. The niceties, though time-consuming and irritating, were necessary. Rose wrote a note saying that she was sorry but that she was getting back together with an ex-boyfriend. She made a few dozen copies and addressed them to be posted later. She was nearly finished sorting through her post when she overheard two wizards discussing the sinking of an oil tanker.

"—set the ship ablaze and sank her. Lucky thing them tanks were empty or the fires would still be burning. But the price of petrol rose anyway."

"Why not apparite or floo?"

"The wee one is sick every time. Me wife will murder me if I even suggest Floo powder to visit the in-laws. The price of petrol just keeps rising. My plug-in hybrid has 35 kilometers per liter, but with petrol at 434.9p per liter it's still bloody expensive."

"A couple more sunken tankers and she'll see the light. Our Amelia is muggleborn too and she eventually became used to taking the children side-along all the time. Just give it time. She's just nervous about magic around the bern, like any new mother."

Rose recognized the familiar conversation on using petrol verses magic, and she returned to her letters. She finally saw a name she recognized, wand&bone. He was asking to meet her at Maison Bertaux in Soho for coffee on Monday. She liked that he suggested a muggle place. Coffee sounded like a safe date, and there was a good chance that she would not accidently meet someone she knew. She replied with a brief description of what she would be wearing. Then she wrote to Isis to tell her about the date and scold her for writing to so many men. She set up another date with the Lizzie Bennett guy on Wednesday to go to Surrey Docks Farm. Now she had two sacks of letters to be posted, which certainly couldn't be sent from the Grange, and two sacks of letters to be chucked. She _Diminuendo'd _the sacks and apparited to her own flat.

Once home dumped the two sacks containing the read letters next to her sofa. She went to give her owl a stack of letters to deliver, but found an empty place where her owl's cage ought to be. _Right, sent __Gwaihir__ to Mum and Dad's_, thought Rose. _Bugger. _She called for Isis using the floo.

"Isis! Can I drop off some letters for you to post?"

"Only if they're for the Matching Hat!"

"They are! Is it all right?"

"Sure thing, just pop over and drop them by Tempest's cage, but you can't stay because I have a family dinner I'm getting ready for!"

Rose followed Isis's instructions and returned home. She apparited to the safe house where she transfigured herself back into Sophie Pritchard before she drove back to Ottery Norton. She listened to the recording that Scorpius had made of his evening at the pub while she drove. Background information, it seemed, and tedious. Wagers and far too many rounds of drinks seemed to characterize Aunt Sally at the local. She noticed a chippy van in a layby and made a u-turn. The day had been far too tedious, full of vexatious protocols that felt useless and completely unsatisfactory, to have to come up with something for dinner. Besides, a takeaway from the chippy van fit into her legend perfectly—what could be more muggle.

…

On Sunday Rose and Scorpius went to check their dead drop on a local footpath. Moving quietly they were able to see Peter Wickens meeting a stranger in the woods. Rose could hear them in the distance thanks to a Grange-modified pair of extendable ears and pulled Scorpius behind a tree. Off balance, Scorpius stepped on a twig. The two men looked up.

"What was that?" asked Peter.

"Someone's here," said the stranger. "Were you followed?"

"No, no one followed me."

"Then you told someone."

"I told Susan I was taking a walk, that's all."

"Stay here, I'll check."

Rose pulled Scorpius against her body and kissed him. Her tongue moved between his lips parted in surprise. He returned the kiss with passion. His knee parted her legs easily and he grasped her butt tightly. She responded to this signal by wrapping on leg around his waist. He pulled her up off the ground and aligned their hips. Rose moaned. The stranger returned to Peter.

"A couple going at it against a tree."

"Indian looking chappie and blonde looker?"

"Yes. Are they staying in the area?"

"Jai and Sophie Pritchard, from London. They've bought Blackamoor farm. Can't seem to keep their hands off each other."

"Well they certainly took no notice of me. Let's walk on."

Once Rose could no longer hear the men, she dropped back to her own feet and pushed Scorpius away gently.

"They've left."

"What? Who has left?" Scorpius leaned back into Rose. "Oh, well, we should keep at it, really sell the cover." Rose rolled her eyes and kneed him in the groin. Scorpius doubled over groaning. When he spoke it was with a strained, gasping voice.

"Really, you could have just said no. Attempting to unman me is just excessive force. You're trying to distract from the fact that you enjoyed that kiss too."

"I'll check the drop."

"How's about we make it an early night tonight?" asked Scorpius in a pained, breathless, high pitched sort of voice.

"It's called playing the cover," replied Rose as she hunted in the joints of the tree branches for an acorn. "Give me a boost."

"Well, I'm not usually into role-playing, but anything for you, princess," said Scorpius as he gave her a leg up to reach the branch.

"Come on, I've found the message. Let's get a move on slow coach, Mildred Diggle's funeral is at 2."

"You go ahead, I need a minute."

…

While singing "All Creatures Great and Small" in the church, Rose looked around the church at the faces in the pews. _One of them used the killing curse—one of them killed Mildred, _thought whispered to Scorpius,

"Which one of them did it?" Scorpius pretended to look closer at their shared hymnal while he pulled her closer and leaned over intimately next to her ear,

"Biggest bunch of muggles I ever saw. Not a wizard among the lot," he whispered. He placed a gentle kiss below her ear.

"Could be a witch," Rose whispered back.

…

Rose met Susan Wickens and Tanith Barton outside the church after the funeral. Scorpius continued speaking with the vicar.

"I wish I had a better sense of who Mildred was. I think that a person's choice in plants is a good reflection of a person. What kind of plants did Mildred prefer?"

"She liked plants that needed a lot of care. Fussy things, like alpines."

"You mean she liked to boss things around. She was very good at pulling things up and replanting. Some people are too timid, but Mildred could be too rough with a failing plant," said Susan.

"But it wasn't just that. She created microclimates and pocket beds in her garden. She mostly liked remarkably rare plants. Things you couldn't even get from a specialty nursery, things that maybe grew in only one place in the wild," said Tanith.

"Oh, wow, really? I've been sticking to things I can pick up at the garden center. The closest I've ever been to a rare plant is watching the telly coverage of the Chelsea Flower Show."

"Mildred used to collect epiphytes and other funny looking things. Kept'em as houseplants," said Susan.

"Oh, like air-plants, right? They grow up in trees or something?" prompted Rose.

"Epiphytes do not root in soil," corrected Hannah Giles, an older woman in walking kit, as she joined them. "Are you speaking of Mildred's collection?"

"Yes. I wonder what will happen to all of her plants? Will you take care of them now?" asked Rose.

"No, I expect that Magnus will take them. I don't really care for cacti and epiphytes. I prefer British natives, better for wildlife and conservation, and for twitchers. Won't you come back to mine for tea or sherry? I'm not up to going to the reception," said Hannah.

"I must make an appearance at the village hall," replied Susan and she left them to walk to Hannah's cottage.

"Were you very close with Mildred?" asked Rose, attempting to restart the conversation after tea and sherry had been distributed.

"As close as anyone was to her. Mildred was difficult to enjoy as a person. She was that difficult combination of very private about herself while being quick to give her opinion about everyone and everything else. But we did most things together, being so involved in the WI and the village," said Tanith.

"Well, what does any of us really know about each other, after all," said Hannah.

…

After a quiet walk back to the farmhouse, they entered the house together still holding hands. Suddenly Rose threw Scorpius's hand away from her.

"Dammit! I'm tired of pretending. This whole waiting thing is completely pointless." Scorpius followed Rose up the stairs to their bedroom, staring at her ass the whole way.

"I agree completely," replied Scorpius.

"Day in, day out, being so close, yet so far away from what's really going on. I wish we could just cut to the chase, get the job done." Rose removed her bulky cardigan. She looked over her shoulder at Scorpius, "Unzip me?"

Scorpius swallowed hard. He reached out to pull her zipper. He fumbled a little before pulling open her wool sheath dress. He stared at her bare back.

"Thanks," she said and began to pull the dress off. "Aren't you going to take off your funeral things?" Scorpius undressed in a flash. He was standing naked behind her when he realized that she had pulled the bulky sweater back on.

"Why are you wearing that? You know I'll warm you up." Rose turned to look at him.

"Tha—Oh my god, Scorpius, Why are you naked?" Scorpius frowned.

"Shit, that's not what you meant." He picked up his boxers and pulled them on as he hopped over to the dresser. "Bugger. What were you really talking about?"

"I'm not entirely sure I know about what you thought I was talking about."

"Well, I know that I thought that this bed might not survive the night the way you were talking."

"Ha! I so _knew _I was your type!"

"I was being courteous."

"You think that you would be doing me a favor by having sex with me?"

"After a funeral many people feel the need to do something life affirming"

"And sex with you is life affirming?"

"Yes…obviously"

"_Right_. I was talking about having to wait for the forensic report on Mildred Diggle's body."

"Oh… from what you said I'm not entirely sure I should have figured that out."

"This is too weird. Debrief in the kitchen." Rose left Scorpius to finish dressing himself. When he finally came down, Rose began,

"Before I forget, I must go to London tomorrow. Personal matter."

"We're on assignment. Under cover, and you're going to sodding London to get your hair done! Bloody hell Rose, of all the daft things—"

"It can't be helped. Besides, it isn't as if any important is going on, we're playing the waiting game."

"It can't be helped! I'll bloody well help you! What about the smuggling ring—the actual reason we're in this ruddy village to begin with." Scorpius took a deep breath to calm himself. "Why must you go to London.?"

"Actually it does concern our cover. There are things I couldn't fob off without attracting a lot of attention to my absence."

"What sort of things? Surely your family knows all about your assignment. They likely all have security clearance to know the whole case-file anyway—what couldn't Rose Weasley put off without attracting attention?"

"Not everything is your business, you know."

"Our legend is certainly part of my purview."

"Fine. MyfriendsmademesignupfortheMatchingHatandIhavetogo onadate." Scorpius replayed her words at a more normal speed in his mind. Then he started to laugh until tears were streaming down his face. He wiped a few tears away from his eyes and said,

"Priceless! Ruddy brilliant! Rose Weasley on a dating service! What, blokes don't just fall over themselves to court you?"

"I never should have told you. You don't understand."

"What's to understand, your friends think you need help meeting a man—or is it a woman? _Please_ tell me it's a woman," asked Scorpius, hopefully while concocting fantasies of Rose and another woman in his mind.

"As if that was any of your damn business either!" Rose turned back to the table with her plate of beans and toast and sat.

"Hey, I'm not judging, just it would explain a lot about earlier."

"You're despicable, did you know? We should debrief."

"Where are my beans and toast?"

"Fix them yourself you immature prat. Why do you think Peter Wickens was having a secret meeting with that man near the woods?"

"No idea. Maybe they're lovers."

"Really, is sex all you think about?"

"Of course, it's primary motivation for most people. Fine if you don't think it was sex, maybe drugs, Wickens is in haulage, right?" asked Scorpius.

"It's plausible, we are near the coastline, drug smuggling is a possibility."

"It doesn't matter, it's pure speculation. We need more concrete intelligence."

"I have a little more information about Mildred's plant collection and a possible smuggling connection. Magnus, have you heard anything about a Magnus?"

"Magnus Fawcett. Environmentalist, supposed to be out of the country the day of Mildred's murder. Travels a lot, wife left him. That's all I know about him, I haven't met him yet."

"Well, one of the WI ladies said that he would likely get Mildred's rare plant collection. It sounds a little silly that way, but it was as if he were the only one who knew a thing about taking care of Mildred's plants, but also that he was close to Mildred because they shared knowledge about rare plants. Fawcett—I think I know that name. A family of wizards near my grandparents were called Fawcett."

"Well, there must be many Fawcetts in the UK."

"No, my grandparents live nearby, just outside Ottery St. Catchpole. The Fawcetts lived in the village. I never met any of them. I'm not even sure how many of them there are really. But Magnus Fawcett must be the wizarding link to the smugglers."

"We'll request information on him, see if he's a wizard."

"I'd wager he's a wizard and mixed up in this smuggling scheme. Perhaps we can get a warrant for his Gringotts records. What did you find out at the village hall?"

"Fat load of nothing. Munro Dudgeon is an obnoxious prat that thinks he's lord of the manor. Wouldn't stop talking about himself. Did meet an artist renting a flat in the village."

"Promising?"

"Don't hold your breathe. He's about a hundred and seven, long grey beard, and wears a black beret: paints landscapes. He has a caretaker that must be going on seventy. He carriers—the caretaker, that is, carries his easel, the canvases and paint box. They're making a tour of the country, county by county. These chaps cornered me by the punch bowl for the remainder of the do. Didn't get on with Mildred—tried to paint her cottage and she ran them off. Could talk for England, but not murderers or plant smugglers."

"Perhaps they are couriers. Magnus Fawcett is key. How do we get an introduction to Fawcett? He must go down the pub."

"Might I note for the record, that it is _you_ again proposing me to go boozing down the local."

"Scorpius, really, why is it so hard for you to go to a pub to chat with suspects without causing serious liver damage. And stuff the male bonding bullshit."

"I shall explain in ungendered terminology that would pass the HR guidelines. They drink in rounds, and you must keep up to speed with the round. If the publican places a pint in front of me and I haven't finished it by the time the next pint is placed in front of me, _notice_ is taken by the general population. Encouraging words come from all directions. People I've never spoken to now voice an opinion about finishing my first pint, as the second stands in front of me. "Come on, Jai, you're falling behind again," they say, as they order the third. Before you suggest deception, I'll have you know that it is impossible to disguise how much ale you've consumed when it comes in a pint glass. If it were in a bottle or at a party, perhaps you could appear drunk and have had little, but in a pub, it is impossible to disguise how many pints you've had."

"So there's no hope of you winnowing out information without you being as tight as a tick, thus furthering your life's ambition to become a raving dipsomaniac."

"I knew you would understand, pookie."

"Perhaps I ought to come down the pub as well. At least prevent you from giving up the game. Perhaps I could arrange to visit Mildred's plant collection, identify other magical plants, get a read on where they're sourcing from."

"Yes, we can double team it, I shall say something like, 'My wife is batty about plants.' And they shall say something about Mildred having plants, and I shall reply, 'Do you think it would be possible to arrange for her to see Mildred's collection as she kept it? My wife would be ever so pleased.' And they shall say something about Fawcett having plants, and call Fawcett over from playing dominos in the corner to say, 'Magnus you could show Mildred's plants to Mrs. Pritchard, couldn't you old chap.' And he shall reply that he would be pleased as punch to cater to the horticultural interests of the lovely Sophie Pritchard."

"The voices in your head think I'm lovely, do they?"

"They're under the spell of the enchanting Sophie, not _you _Weasley." Rose rolled her eyes.

"Apparently Mildred favored rare epiphytes—"

"Bless you"

"Epiphytes are air plants—they don't grow out of soil, usually they use another plant for physical support."

"They're parasites?"

"No, not usually. As I was saying, we'll need to know more about them."

"I will leave the herbology to you, Oh Captain, my Captain."

"Of course you will, because if it doesn't involve getting pissed or having sex, you're not interested in doing it."

"What the hell? That is completely unfair. We're partners, we have complementary skills- to complete the mission."

"What the fuck would you know about completing a mission. All you know is getting drunk and muggle-baiting with your friends under the auspices of the Auror Office. And no one believes that it really took you four years to take down that group of wannabe Death Eaters." Rose stood to leave. Scorpius grabbed her arm as she passed.

"You have no idea what you are talking about."

"No one goes undercover for four years without going native."

"Those are four years of _my life _that I will never get back. Four years of living on the run as low-life scum, isolated completely from friends and family. That is the sacrifice that I have to make to make up for my surname. I know what the others say—that I'm_ compromised_ because I'm a Malfoy."

"My opinion of you isn't based on your family's surname, it's based on your behavior."

"I have to volunteer for the worst assignments, the deepest covers that prevent me from having a life, a family, like every other Auror in the office, just to prove that I'm trustworthy. I do my job, I make the sacrifice, because I am an Auror, and a damn good one and you, Weasley, you don't get to question that."

"You grab my arm like that again and I will put you down," said Rose. She walked out of the farmhouse and drove toward London.


	4. Chapter 4

Before her date on Monday Rose sent a letter to Neville asking for information about rare or magical epiphytes. She wanted to study up on the plants that she might see in Mildred's collection. Also, stopping in at the Grange to write to Neville distracted her from her ambivalent feelings about her pending coffee date. Part of her was nervous, part felt the whole date thing to be a tedious waste of time and none of her was hoping for this coffee date to turn into a relationship.

Rose waited at Maison Bertaux for twenty minutes as herself, undisguised. She had arrived five minutes early, bought a pastry and a coffee and waited. She waited a courteous fifteen minutes during which she ate her pastry and drank coffee. She left when she finished—courtesy is one thing, self-respect is another. Besides, being stood up on her first date would be an excellent example of why she should quit the Hat thing. She needed to get back to Ottery Norton.

Only after her security precautions and now redisguised as the blonde Sophie and driving Southwest, she did reconsider what it was exactly that was so urgent that she needed to be back in Ottery Norton—_fat load of nothing_—was the snide answer she gave herself. But it was her first time taking the lead on a case and she wanted to get a positive result, so she gave herself a talking to about having patience with Scorpius and persevering through tedium. _But was working with Scorpius really tedious? _She ignored her own thought and turned up the radio. _Whatever he is, it is never tedious._ _Being sexually assaulted and then insulted isn't tedious? The groping is for the cover. But the digs are so unprofessional. He's immature, unfocused. He acts like the whole case is one big amateur comedy routine._ _He's going to give me so much shit for being stood up. Well, don't tell him. How do I not tell him? Just tell him the date was fine. So, then there's going to be a second date, right? How is his voice in my head? Fuck fancying Malfoy. Snap out of it Weasley! Pull yourself together. You will not create a fake boyfriend just to prevent Malfoy from teasing you. It's none of his damn business how your date went. If he asks, tell him the bloke is married. Bugger bugger bugger. Arg! I'm going to kill Isis and Gwenog and Pomona for getting me into that damn dating service. And I will never forgive Odo Proudfoot for making me play house with Malfoy._

When Rose finally arrived at the farmhouse, it was empty. She decided to start dinner and think about maintaining their cover and advancing the case. _Mildred called us Londoners with more money than sense. Perhaps we ought to play up the money aspect, that might draw out the smuggling ring more quickly. What do people spend money on after buying a new house? Buy furniture? That seems like a frivolous use of Ministry funds. Home improvements- that's more sensible, the Grange did buy the farmhouse. The roof does leak—Sophie Pritchard would be getting annoyed with emptying pots of water from the leaking roof by now. What else does the young urban couple do to alter a country house? Add solar panels, do up the kitchen, etc. Leave the kitchen for now, we can be "making renovation plans" for months if need be. Months. I would rather take tea with Grawp or Kreacher every day for a year than live as Scorpius's wife for another week. The things I do as an Auror. Merlin knows cookery wasn't included in the training. _Rose followed her mother's past advice to consider cookery as a branch of Potions. Her mother was always saying that learning food preparation, both magical and muggle, was important from an elemental perspective. _"It's impossible to make good food out of nothing!" _was a saying of her mother's that sprung to mind in her mother's own voice. Survival—knowing how to find something edible or how to make something edible was one of those skills that her parents encouraged during hols. Once she and Hugo had entered Hogwarts, they were allowed to practice food charms at home. But here, undercover, it was muggle cookery only, just like before Hogwarts. She granted that the elements of timing each part of a meal to be ready at the right moment were similar to potion-making, but she had far greater satisfaction from brewing a boil cure than serving a perfect roasted chicken. Her grandmother said that would change when she was older-something about the satisfaction of providing for a family. Rose knew that her grandmother was a gifted witch, had fought during the Battle of Hogwarts, who had been satisfied, more than satisfied, as a housewife rather than a career witch. She had trouble truly understanding her grandmother's choice, but comforted herself with the knowledge that it was her grandmother's choice rather than the misogynistic oppression of society at large. Rose knew better than to think that anyone or anything could influence Molly Weasley.

Rose had finished cooking and was at the point of deciding whether to plate up some for Malfoy or leave it to be heated up later. She ate alone, tidied up alone, and went to sleep alone. She ignored the gapping space in the bed. She slept in the middle with defiance. When the knocking started, she ignored it. When the shouting was accompanied by a steady staccato of boot upon door she slowly pulled a robe around her to trudge down the cold stairs. At the front door she shouldered the shotgun and cocked both barrels before pulling the door open.

"Jai, is anyone with you?"

"Naw, they went on to drop Soole at his."

"Good," replied Rose before she pulled the trigger. A soft metallic click was followed by squeals of girlish delight. Scorpius giggled and pulled out the missing shells from his trouser pocket.

"I stole your ammonightion, love." His face drew into a childlike seriousness as realization dawned upon him. "You tried to shoot me! I knew you would shoot me if I came home pissed." Rose shook her head in disappointment. She felt that she would have all the punishment and none of the fun of shooting Malfoy. He shoved past her into the kitchen and sat at the table in the dark.

"Ducky, what's for dinner?"

"You've missed dinner, you…you…tosser! I'm going to bedfordshire. You will be sleeping in the bathtub."

"The sofa is fine by me, muffin."

"Not by me. If you're sick, you'll be sick somewhere that's easy to hose down afters."

"I'm not sleeping in a blasted watering trough! It's only a bath tub if you're the size of a house elf!"

"I have a whole box of shotgun shells that says you are sleeping in the bathtub. You may take a pillow and blanket, which you will torch in the morning."

"You say the nicest things. Weasley, are you trying to seduce me with your dominating nonsense? A tip from me, bossypants, loose'em, because I must admit I like it even better when you talk dirty."

"Of all the foul, immature, selfish, narcissistic wizards, I'm partnered with _him_. What did I ever do to deserve this as punishment?" she continued to mutter to herself as she climbed the stairs with her unloaded shotgun.

"Sweet dreams poppet!"

…

When Scorpius came into the kitchen looking for breakfast at noon, Rose managed to control her temper and not tell him off for drinking the night before.

"About last night, the Bell Ringing Society had an outing with the Bishop's Otterton Bell Ringing Society to Exeter."

"Oh, you visited the cathedral, did you?"

"No, we went to The Prospect, Mill on the Exe, oh and they have one called the Hog's Head too!" Rose rolled her eyes and began to explain,

"A cathedral is a region—"

"Merlin's pants! I'm kidding, I know what a cathedral is. You're too serious."

"I'm not too serious, I am the appropriate level of seriousness as an undercover operative."

"You need to loosen up, do something for the craic of it rather than because it fits into your five year plan to take over the Ministry."

"What makes you think I want to take over the Ministry?"

"Because by Halloween first year you had told everyone in our year that you wanted to take over the Ministry by the time you were forty-five."

"And everyone agreed that I would make a great Minister of Magic."

"James told everyone to be nice to you because you had seizures and shot blue flames from your limbs when you got upset."

"Huh, that does explain why Pamela Davies woke up our Head of House the night I was homesick. I had never understood why she did that."

"So, do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Your date. The Matching Hat. How did your date go?"

"No, I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not? Does he save his toenail clippings? Does he have an obsession with train timetables?"

"I'm not talking about my personal life with you."

"We're partners. We have to build trust, part of that is getting to know each other."

"Malfoy, we were the same year at school and you're best friends with my cousin. We already know each other."

"No, we know _about_ each other. We don't properly know each other."

"If you suggest a bit of how's your father to get to know each other, I will hurt you."

"I don't doubt that. I'm being serious Rose. We haven't seen each other in five years. I'm sure we've both changed. Can you honestly say you're the same person now that you were at seventeen? At twenty? "

"Fine. He was married."

"Ouch. How did you find out?"

"He forgot to take off his ring."

"Amateur mistake."

"Yeah, well, at least I found out sooner rather than later, before it developed into something."

"That sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"It happened to a friend of mine."

"Sure it did."

"What?"

"That's like international code for speaking from personal experience. You have another date set up?"

"Wednesday."

"So what is a first date with Rose Weasley like?"

"Lunch at the Surrey Docks Farm."

"A farm?"

"There's a little place there to eat. It's an urban farm run by a wizard and his muggle husband alongside the Thames."

"I get it. You're taking your date to the petting zoo. Getting a little_ friendly_ with your inner animal." Scorpius punctuated the sentence with a suggestive shimmy of the shoulders.

"Forget it. It's like talking to a twelve year-old. What about you? What's a first date with Scorpius Malfoy like?"

"Uh, good question."

"It's been donkey years, hasn't it?"

"I think the last time I went on a first date as myself was before Auror training. Probably a drink in the Three Broomstick or the Leaky Cauldron."

"Was there a second?"

"I can't remember, maybe. So what's on the agenda for today, poppet."

"Nothing. The WI meeting was rescheduled for this Thursday, and I'm heading into London tomorrow. Though I had been thinking more about what we ought to do to maintain our legend. I had a thought that to bolster up the idea of being buyers we could be seen to be spending money—the roof for example."

"It does need the work."

"And it isn't a frivolous expense, seeing as the Grange did purchase the farmhouse."

"I see, so replacing the roof would be a prudent capital investment. And you would of course have more contact with that Young Tom."

"Never you fear, Sophie only has eyes for Jai."

"Can we put in a windmill?"

"What, like wooden shoes and tulips?"

"No, like a thing that makes electricity from the wind."

"A residential wind turbine. Sure, sounds like something a well-to-do muggle couple from London would do."

"I've always wanted a windmill, they're so cool."

"Alright, roof and wind turbine are your chores for the day. I have to do the shopping this afternoon."

"Oh, I'll come too, I find Texco's fascinating. It's amazing the things muggles make up just because they don't have house elves. And the lengths they go to—all this energy and effort into co-ordinating and organizing the distribution of food stuffs to the population. And the trolleys to hold all your selected goods while you shop, rather than just levitating tall piles behind you. Ingenious!"

"Great. Remind me to buy you trolley for Christmas then."

* * *

Author's note in which I beg for reviews: Please review, even to say the story is total crap or I've spelled something wrong. It won't get me to post the next chapter any quicker, but you'll have given me reassurance that people do read this stuff.


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